


Here's to Us

by StarryMar



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Denial, Elliot 4 Heart Event, Emotional Manipulation, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Manipulation, Outing, Post-Break Up, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 22:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18838225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryMar/pseuds/StarryMar
Summary: His recent breakup with Sebastian leaving him lonely, angry, and confused, Farmer Mars has a difficult time coping with his pent up emotions and his uncertain feelings (read: utter denial) concerning Shane. After over a month of ignoring the problem, he resigns to finally "address" his issues...in not the most healthy of ways.Takes place during Elliot's 4 heart event.





	Here's to Us

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little bit of a taste of sorts for my character Mars and his story in Stardew Valley. I plan to have more content, but this was a teaser from the middle of his tale. 
> 
> Semi-inspired by the Halestorm song of the same title, "Here's to Us". 
> 
> Enjoy :)

It was rare that Mars was compelled to dispel his loneliness and anxieties at the Stardrop; yet here he was, trudging through the clacking door like a robot on auto pilot, seeking his last resort. Sights set on the first barstool straight ahead of him, his body felt like lead as he sat, cold, heavy, and dead.

“Four in the afternoon, huh, Mars?” The voice flowed through his ears like honey, a soothing and gentle sound that was enough to stir him from his doldrum, even momentarily. Peering up, his eyes fell on Emily approaching, her ever jovial face the portrait of friendship. As she took in his demeanor, however, all teasing became laced with concern, and her smile wearied,

“I was going to say how impressive it was that you beat Pam and Shane here today…but, gosh, don’t you look worse for wear.” Curiously, he flinched ever so slightly at the mention of Shane, but couldn’t be bothered to unpack that now. Emily leaned down on the bar to face him at his level, eyes boring holes into his forehead, begging him to face her, “You’re taking the breakup hard, huh?”

Distracted from his thoughts, his sights flickered to her, engulfing him in the intensity of her gaze. He averted his eyes,

“I wouldn’t say that.” She straightened up,

“Mars, you can’t fool me. Your aura is all kinds of wacky,” she shook her head, “And besides, you look completely out of sorts. Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice dropped then, as though the walls of the empty saloon would listen, “The crowd won’t roll in for another hour and I can tell Gus to beat it, if you want.”

He hugged his arms close, giving her proposal a brief consideration. Meeting her eyes, he mustered an absolutely anguished grin,

“I appreciate that, Emily. But, and no offense, I didn’t really come to the saloon to talk my feelings out. If you catch my drift.” Eyebrows knitting, she sighed and turned to the mountain of bottles behind her, expelling an equally suffering laugh,

“You know, one day I’ll get out of here and get my degree as an art therapist. That way I can _actually_ help people with their problems.” She plopped a shot glass in front of him and poured a stream of gold, “For now, all I can prescribe you with is a healthy dose of tequila.” He managed to favor her with a grateful simper,

“Thanks, Em. You’ll be amazing at it.” She beamed at him, then went off to busy herself with other things.

Cradling the glass between his thumb and forefinger, he sank into his murky reflection in the booze. The surface rippled with every creak of the old floorboards as Emily danced across it, sending waves to the center before settling down again, only to rise up moments later and repeat in an endless cycle. The saloon was eerily quiet at this hour, with no chatter or jaunty jukebox to liven the dusty space. It was deafening, and without a second thought, he drowned the silence away in one swig.

It sizzled down his throat with a pleasantly magma-like sensation, distracting him from the infinite playback of his mind for even one blissful moment. As Emily sauntered by to dutifully refill his poison, they both knew it would be a long, long night.

  
As the shadows of the afternoon grew longer and the first regulars of the Saloon filtered in, the audience of shot glasses grew ever steadily in number before him. Five shots in and a healthy amount of salt and lime to chase them down, Mars was comfortably cotton headed, if not more dull in the heart than when he began. He stared at the most recent victim, his gaze more empty than the glass itself. As Emily was tending to the growing crowd, he wondered dimly if he should bother calling her over for another, or end his disappointing evening now.

“Why hello, Miss Emily! And how are you this evening?” A carefully curated victorian accent sang through the humdrum of the throng, revealing to Mars even in his haze that it was none other than Elliott who had decided to visit the bar this evening. The animated conversation between the two offbeats continued a short ways away from him, and he resigned to let it stay that way by quietly paying his tab and sneaking out.

Of course, the mere shuffle of his bar stool against the worn floors caught the gregarious writer’s attention right away,

“Mars! I didn’t see you there, how are you doing, my friend?” He grumbled under his breath, cursing his less-than perfect stealth abilities. He had no gripes with the auburn-haired author, and in fact figured that the two would get along rather well if they ever had a chance to have a conversation. As it stood, however, Mars found himself unable and unwilling to listen to Elliott’s flowery ramblings long enough to have a proper conversation at all. And he certainly wasn’t ready to try now.

Turning to face the other, Elliott was already settling into the stool beside him, evidently fully intending to get comfortable and stay a while.

Great.

“Oh, hey, Elliott,” he muttered, vying to sound cheerful and friendly in spite of himself.

He could tell by the lag in his voice that he was tipsy, his empty stomach to blame, but he couldn’t be sure if Elliott was able to tell. Honestly, he couldn’t be sure if he even cared at all.

“How has life on the farm been treating you? Are you as passionate as ever about your craft, tending to all of your budding creations?” His eyes brightened as he rambled on, “It’s absolutely riveting what you do! I can hardly keep a house plant green!” Mars swallowed the irritated grumble already forming in his throat and kept his eyes trained on his empty shot,

“Oh, y’know...same old, same old…” he peeked at Elliot, who’s eyes shone with unbridled curiosity, and breathed a silent sigh, “Just hanging in there. How’s your novel goin’?” To Mars’ surprise, Elliot’s already wide smile grew wider,

“Just splendidly! I’ve actually been hot at my writing desk since dawn scribbling away. I looked outside and saw the tide coming in, and hadn’t realized i’d been glued to the spot for well over eight hours!” He chuckled heartily to himself, “Do you ever have bursts of unstoppable fervor like that, Mars?”

He tried to focus on an answer to that question, but his mind was becoming more clouded as the minutes wore on. He attempted to swallow the slur he knew was building on his lips,

“Uhh, yeah...sometimes s’I guess.” He looked helplessly to the tower of booze just behind the bar, and an idea sparked, “Hey, whydon’t we getsum drinks? You’ve earned it for workin’ all day.” Elliot, seemingly still unaware of Mars’ intemperance, clapped his hands together,

“What a brilliant idea!” He then turned to Gus, who tended to some glassware a few feet away, “Bartender! Fetch me some of your finest ale! One for me, and another for my friend Mars here!” Gus offered a curt nod in reply, prompting Elliott to swivel back around with a triumphant smile, “You know, I wasn’t anticipating running into you here tonight, but I venture some meetings are altogether starcrossed. We’ve much to catch up on!” Mars, a victim to his increasingly overpowering intoxication, twirled a shot glass around idly and snickered,

“Pffft, ‘starcrossed’. Sounds s’like Romeo n’ Juliet.” Elliott stared blankly for a moment before going uncharacteristically quiet,

“Why, yes, I do suppose that work did popularize the term.” He averted his gaze and cleared his throat, allowing a precipitous silence to swallow him. He remained in that contemplative way, much to Mars’ confusion, until two ample steins of brew were heaved to the bar in front of them,

“Enjoy!” Gus’ parting words shook Elliott from his stupor, who looked upon the mugs with a start, as though he’d momentarily forgotten he’d ordered them.

As Elliott fumbled for a reply to Gus, Mars’ limited attention was dragged away from the other by the sound of heavy footfalls shuffling their way through the door, accompanied with Emily’s chime from across the room,

“Look what the junimo dragged in! 7 o’clock, right on the dot!” His eyes darted and his heart took an uncomfortable leap into his throat, as none other than Shane made his trek to his spot by the fireplace, a mere few feet away at the end of the bar. He grunted a brief and meager greeting to the boisterous barmaid, paying no mind to anyone else as he was passed his usual fare of beer.

Unwilling to wait for Elliott to make a move in the conversation, and now more anxious than ever to delude himself further into the dregs of downright drunken delirium, Mars reached for the booze and held it out toward his acquaintance.

“Hey, whydon’ we make a toast?” He spoke all-too loudly as his eyes seemed to drift in the direction of the saloon’s newcomer. Elliott’s attention returned to the farmer, and his eyebrows raised,

“You think? My, that’s quite the idea!” He couldn’t help but reveal a coyish smile, “I must admit, Mars, this is all a side I hadn’t realized you possessed.” Mars, currently entirely unable to parse even the most glaring of subtexts if his life depended on it, waved the words of the author off,

“Pshhaww, I’m jus’ sayin, we’re two hardworkin guys who jus’ wanna live life and figure ourselves s’out!” Elliot’s grin widened and he chuckled, completely infatuated by Mars’ performance,

“Splendid, just splendid!” He raised his glass to face Mars’,

“Here’s to us, some poor lonely schmuks with a lotta heart jus’ tryin to figure shit out and do things s’right!” He spoke as boldly as his wobbly intoxicated lips could manage, with his eyes trained just slightly to the left of Elliott’s. They clanged their glasses and hooted in emphatic reverie, loud enough so that Mars was sure a certain purple-haired cashier would notice. As the pair downed their prize in zealous delight, Mars watched through the foam and frosty glass as a fleeting pair of green eyes flickered his way.

The cursory glance passed, but it was enough to satisfy Mars’ aberrant appetite for the time being. He downed the entire contents of his glass in a blurred flash before slamming the empty stein back down on the bar in a heavy, inebriated fumble. His face feeling positively pink, he chortled a syrupy, lagging laugh,

“Heuh heuh, dat wuz greeaat…!” Elliott swallowed his ale a moment later, and let out a victorious sigh,

“Indeed it was! I truly hadn’t realized I’d needed such a titillating adventure!” Mars’ laughter only deluded further,

“Heh... _tit_ -allating. S’funny, why wud a word use th’word _tit_?” Elliott laughed heartily, no longer able to hide the rosy tint to his cheeks. Whether it was due to the alcohol or something else, or both, Mars was far too gone to be able to tell,

“It is quite the humorous vocabulary, I do agree!” He tucked a strand of loose hair behind his ear, “Do you ever write, dear Mars? You seem an individual of curious knowledge.” The farmer vyed to steady himself on his stool as his balance grew more dubious by the second,

“M’yeah, I do actually! Bu’ notso much these days. I don’ have a lot of time cuz’ of the farming.” He laid his lazy head on his hand, elbow teetering upon the bar, “I like t’write articles about retro video games n’shit.” A clumsy laugh escaped him, his face absolutely crimson as the booze overtook him, “Probably not as s’fancy as s’the stuff you write nd’ whatever though! You’re, like, soooo smart and crap.” Elliott leaned forward, his previously tucked hair escaping to cascade around his lean face, framing it rather delicately,

“You know,” his cavorting cadence dropped to a seductive hush, “I would very much love to hear about all of your daring and fascinating escapades, if you’d be inclined to share.” He stroked his hand across Mars’ thigh, allowing no room for misinterpretation. Mars’ jaw hung loose for a moment, trying to parse the turn of events but feeling embarrassingly slow to the uptake. Curiously, and against his own intentions, his eyes flickered to Shane across the way, who, to his surprise and delight, was doing his best to hide his own harried glances in their direction.

The distinct, sudden, and aching pulse against the barstool, while maddening, was more than enough in Mars’ wasted fervor to give him the answer he needed.

 

~*~

 

“Unnnghh…” Mars grumbled, groggy and disoriented as his hand raised to shield his sights from the blinding sun beaming through the window. Each blink of his tired eyes as he tried to adjust to the light only served to send a pounding throb to his head, worsening with each flutter of his lids. When he was finally able to open them enough without completely frying his brain, he was met with the view of a piano and a very tiny cabin.

“What...the fuck..?” He groaned as he rose, feeling his stomach roll in time with the pulse of his head.

“Humm...hrrphmm,” came a murmur from his side. His gaze darted to the source, and as his hazy mind finally caught up with what was happening, he realized two things;

Elliott was snoring gently beside him, and they were both completely and utterly naked.

Instinctively scrambling to cover himself with the comforter, despite knowing it would change nothing nor hide even a sliver of his growing shame and panic, he hugged it close and tried to scoot discreetly away from the warm body beside him.

 _Dear Yoba, what the_ fuck _happened last night?!_ His mind screamed, jumping to desperately attempt and tie together the scattered and loose ends of his fugue. Try as he might, all he could recall were the dizzying amount of drinks he felt the need to consume, and Shane’s face. His stupid, stupid face.

His heart rattled and face burned as his palms sweat, his body unsure of which emotion to focus on, choosing to exhibit an overly uncomfortable combination of all three. He wanted to run, pretend like this had never happened, and more importantly, pretend that he hadn’t just outed himself to a near stranger in what he could only assume was the most obnoxious and mortifying of ways. Tears sprang to his eyes at that thought, and he scrambled to dress and flee the tiny seaside cabin.

Despite creaky, sea salt bleached floorboards, he made it to the door without incident and breathed a sigh of relief,

“You know, you don’t have to escape into the mid-morning light like some vagabond on the run.” Mars froze in place, his body going rigid save for the gentle wisps of sea breeze that brushed passed his hair. Elliott continued, his voice even, “I suspect you remember very little from our mischief last night, as I myself am the slightest bit foggy, but I can assure you, it was rather enjoyable.” Mars turned his head, refusing to look the other in the eye but taking in his languid form from beneath the cover of his bangs. His cheeks blistered in a stew of guilt and shame, and though he opened his mouth to speak, he found it dry. They suffered in the thick silence for moments on end, Mars unable to form words and Elliott the master of dramatic pauses. He knew there was nothing keeping him there, that he was free to run and leave the humiliation behind, but with every pass of the distant waves beating against the shore, he felt more and more anchored to the spot. It took all he had not to let the anguished, confused, and disgraced tears fall, and he knew the moment he spoke, it would all be over.

“It’s okay. It didn’t bother me,” Elliott spoke, “You don’t have to worry, there isn’t a soul I’ll tell. Besides, it’s not my business to bear.” The gentle and genuine kindness in his voice tore Mars apart, and as his lip began to wobble, he could no longer stand to be there,

 “I-I have to go. I’m sorry.”  

Darting out the door and down the beach path, he sprinted as fast as he could off through town and out the forest trail, refusing to stop for anything or anyone. He arrived back at his empty cottage, panting and gasping for air, slamming the door behind him and locking it tightly.

Without a moment to catch his breath, he threw himself at the bed, sobbing a choked and agonized wail into his cold, lonely pillow.  



End file.
